Worst Enemies Make Even Worse Housemates: The Rewrite
by Reticent Phoenix
Summary: Forced to live together on a strange world, a bunch of zealots, traitors, and xenos, must to learn how to tolerate each other to survive. Tolerate? Survive? I mean they are supposed to get into all sorts of crazy stuff for the laughter of bored gods. Rewrite of my original fanfiction.


**Author's Note:**

**This is a rewrite of the original fanfic I did which shares the same name as this one.**

**Understand that while there may be a plot, this is mostly meant to be a fanfiction on the batshit crazy stuff 'The Chosen' will get up to on Beacon. Also, updates for this fanfiction will be pretty infrequent, as I have other things to prioritise.**

**Well, hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Worst Enemies Make Even Worse Housemates the Rewrite**

It 6 o'clock in the morning when Amadeo, Sanguinary Guard of the venerable Blood Angels Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, woke from his short four hour slumber. As his eyes blinked open, his centuries honed instincts flared, warning him of danger. Looking up from his coffin, Amadeo saw the form of a giant in crimson-and-brass spiked power armour decorated with many skulls, and a helmet bearing the brass visage of a snarling demon, standing over him.

The armoured individual had an arm raised over his helmeted head, a chainaxe covered in dried bloodstains in his raised hand. Seeing he was awake, the red armoured butcher brought his chainaxe down on Amadeo, its internal motor roaring and its numerous teeth moving in high speeds.

Amadeo's arms shot up and grabbed hold of the chainaxe's haft, and the two began to struggle with the roaring weapon. As strong as he was, the butcher in red overpowered Amadeo, and sank the chainaxe's teeth into his neck. The ravenous teeth ripped apart Amadeo's throat in seconds. Not a moment later, the wielder of the chainaxe pulled his weapon away and rose it up again, then brought it down on Amadeo a second time.

This time, going for his chest. Again, the chainaxe tore through the Blood Angel's flesh, and, after some effort, cracked through his iron hard ribcage, and reduced his chest into a gory mess.

The red-and-brass giant repeated this action again and again, hacking away at Amadeo for well over three standard minutes. His chainaxe rising and falling. Every square inch of Amadeo's quarters becoming splattered with the blood and various body parts of the veteran Space Marine.

Amadeo attempted to fight back, even as the red butcher continued to eviscerate his body, but it all proved futile in the end.

After turning Amadeo's room into his own personal abbatoir, the giant ceased his actions, and looked on what little remained of Amadeo. Not much was left really, only bloody chunks and broken bones were all that was left of the proud Blood Angel. The deed done, the crimson-and-brass butcher left Amadeo's incredibly blood stain room, and went to the room next-door. An alarmed cry, the revving of the chainaxe's motor, and the sounds of the weapon hacking at whomever was resting in the room followed soon after.

As the murderer was going to town on the poor unfortunate soul that was his current victim, Amadeo exited his room, alive and bearing no signs that he had just been hacked to pieces earlier. He wore his golden artificer power armour and winged jump pack with the exception of his death mask which he held in the crook of his arm, exposing his angelic face and slowly whitening golden hair. At his hip was the weapon of the Sanguinary Guard, a Glaive Encarmine, and a wrist-Boltgun was strapped to his left forearm.

The crimson-and-brass murderer left the room a second later, his helmeted head turning to the Blood Angel. For a tense moment the two stood there, calm ice-blue eyes staring back at hateful emerald eye-lenses. After a minute of just standing and glaring at each other, the armoured giant turned away from Amadeo, stomping away from him and disappearing behind a corner down the corridor.

A short figure, shorter than the average human male, walked round the corner a couple seconds later. They wore red armour, with a black bodysuit underneath. The colour of the smooth skin of their head was a greyish-blue colour, their short hair was red, and a 'Y'-shaped slit that ran down her forehead to where a human would have a nose. They were a Tau, a female Tau at that.

Amadeo rose a brow when he saw the Tau wearing a cooking apron, and had a tray full of what he believed to be called 'sandwiches' in her hands.

"Many morning greetings, gue'la Amadeo." The creature kindly greeted the Space Marine. "I see you and Kraxxus are awake."

"Shoh," Amadeo replied to the Tau. Neither warmth nor overt hostility in his voice as he addressed her. In normal situations he would have pulped Shoh's head with only one hand, or sliced her head off with his sword the moment she came within arm's reach.

But what he was involved in was not what anyone would dare call a 'normal situation'. Not that there were many to begin with.

"I made sandwiches for everyone. Do you wish to try some?" Shoh offered up the tray of 'sandwiches' to the Space Marine, the Blood Angel had to restrain himself from instinctively reaching for his sword at the motion. That, and he had to ignore the throbbing of the veins in the xeno's neck.

Amadeo reached down and gingerly picked up one of the sandwiches from Shoh's tray, and quickly inspected it before taking a quick bite. Trusting in his preomnor organ to neutralise any poison that the Tau might have slipped into the sandwich. As he chewed on the sandwich, Amadeo walked past Shoh, and made for the short flight of stairs to the house's ground floor.

As he passed the door that Kraxus had emerged from after murdering its occupant, another person exited the door. They were wearing Storm Trooper Carapace Armour under the Armageddon Steel Legion's iconic uniform, and was done putting on their gasmask when they bumped into Amadeo. Upon realising that it was the Astartes that they had smacked their face against, the Steel Legionnaire stood at attention and saluted him.

"Milord!" A female voice cried out from behind the mask in reverence and fear of the Blood Angel.

Her name was Verena Burkhart, a Storm Trooper Sergeant of the 408th Steel Legion Regiment. A competent soldier and Chimera driver, and most importantly, a faithful servant of the Imperium. If only there were more people like her in this house.

"Trooper Verena," Amadeo replied without even slowing his stride, though, he did give the Guardswoman the benefit of looking her way.

Once he had made his way downstairs, Amadeo found that it was not only Shoh and Kraxus that were awake. Sat in the living room and watching a cooking show on the television was a large Ork with a can of fungus beer in his hand. The Ork was so large that he took up all the space of one of the living room's couches. Its name was Riggut Skullkrakka, a Mekboy of the Blood Axes Klan. Beside him was his 'ashishtunt', a grot wearing a tattered Commissar hat named Snikrik.

Again, Amadeo would normally try to dome the Ork's head in with a righteous whack to the head. But such an act would be an exercise in futility, for none of them could kill each other.

Sitting on a chair in the corner, radiating killing intent towards Riggut and Snikrik, was Sister Roxanne. A Celestian swathed in the black-and-white worn by Order of the Ebon Chalice. Resting on her lap was her Bolter-Meltagun, a weapon she looked about ready to use at any moment. Riggut just opening his mouth might just be enough to push her over the edge, and shoot the Ork. Not that he was arguing against it.

"Milord." Roxanne greeted Amadeo, making a quick sign of the Aquila as she did. The gene-son of Sanguinius respectfully nodded back to her.

While the Battle Sisters of the Adepta Sororitas tended to not have the most positive of relations with many Astartes Chapters, primarily because of their differing stances to the worship of the Emperor and the existence of Librarians. The Sisters of Battle revered the Blood Angels Chapter because of their status as the sons of Sanguinius. Sure it could be a bit annoying, but at least she was more tolerable than most of the others in the house.

"Umie," Riggut said to Amadeo as the Blood Angel walked past him and headed into the kitchen. The Blood Angel almost retching at how the xenos addressed him.

Not a moment later, the loud boom of a Bolter being fired and the wet sound of a head exploding filled the house from the living room behind Amadeo. The smell of iron mixed with a mushroom-like followed shortly after. It didn't take a genetically-enhanced transhuman mind as his own to know what had happened just now.

Heading into the kitchen, Amadeo found more of his housemates present. And they were not trying to kill each other, at least in any obvious ways that he could see with his naked eyes.

Sat at the table, calmly reading a newspaper with a teacup in hand, was a Tzeentchian Sorcerer of the Thousands Sons. Azar Thutmose was his name. The sorcerer's Mk IV armour was adorned in the usual manner of his traitorous ilk. Painted azure blue and adorned with gold, with robes that seemed to move by their own volition. He also carried several scrolls and a dark tome written in human skin, all no doubt containing blasphemous secrets that only madmen and traitors would dare to read.

The most disturbing feature of Azar, however, was the two extra arms that sprouted from beneath his original ones. They were thin in comparison, their skin was slick and oily, and possessed an unatural blue pigment, while their fingers ended in long, bird-like talons. Such vile mutations, or 'gifts' as these maniacs called them, disgusted Amadeo to no end. He knew a Space Wolf from his time in the Deatwatch who would love to beat Azar to death with his own arms. Maybe even headbutt him to death.

Stood beside Azar was a Chaos Cultist who wore nothing but a pair of combat trousers and boots, the eight-pointed star of chaos carved into the flesh of his chest, back and forehead. Mattias was this wretched thing's name, and he more or less served as a menial servant for the Traitor Astartes who resided in the house. Doing things such as cleaning their rooms, armour, and weapons, to being a human sacrifice for any dark ritual that any of the Traitor Astartes needed, or felt like doing on a whim.

Now, why was one such as Amadeo residing in a house filled with traitors and xenos?

The explanation wasn't simple, and one that was hard for him to swallow, but here goes.

All of them had been transported from wherever they had been, be it from the most far-flung reaches of the Emperor's galaxy to the most chaotic depths of the Warp, and found themselves here. On a planet rife with mutants, monsters, and those woefully ignorant of the Emperor's light. Who had done sent them to this forsaken place? It had been the gods or incredibly powerful entities of their world.

The Emperor of Mankind. The Dark Gods. The surviving Aeldari gods Isha, Khaine, and Ceogorach. Gork and Mork. The Tyranid Hive Mind. And finally, a powerful fragment of the C'tan known as 'The Deciever'. They all played a part in throwing each of the people in this house into this realm. They forced all of them to coexist in a large for one reason. Because they were bored.

Amadeo did not want to believe it at first, but a Custodian, one of the stalwart guardians of the Emperor and who was acting as their liaison to the Emperor, came before him and the other Imperials and told him that this was the truth. That he had been sent here to live with their hated enemies for the amusement of the Emperor. It was a bit depressing to hear that the great sovereign of the Imperium was treating him this way, almost as depressing as Sanguinala, but not quite.

Still, the Emperor had chosen _him_, along with a few others, to represent Him and the mighty Imperium in this world. Amadeo would not fall short under the gaze of his Emperor, no matter what. Even if he had to live amongst traitors, mutants, and xenos. And the locals of this world they were on were little better than either of the three.

A bloated creature that was once a Space Marine in sickly green Mk III Power Armour strode into the kitchen through the conservatory. Tracking mud and all manner of indescribable filth behind him. A single large horn protruded from his helmet's forehead, a small cloud of flies surrounding him, and a multitude of maggots nesting in his diseased flesh.

This... thing was Ostograth, a Plague Marine of the Death Guard Traitor Legion.

"Ah, my garden in the backyard grows even lovelier by the day. Come... *_Blech_*... would anyone like to inspect my tulips? They are bright with colour and full of life, all thanks to Grandfather Nurgle. *_Disgusting Nurgle Noises*_" Ostograth suggested to all present, gesturing a filth-stained gauntlet towards the garden past the conservatory.

Peeking behind Ostograth, the others saw what was more of a fetid swamp than a backyard. The tulips Ostograth spoke of were covered in bulbous growths and a foul-looking greenish gas spewed forth from its flower. Amadeo was almost certain that he saw something _move _in the bird bath.

"We'll pass," Azar declined Ostograth's offer with his echoing and silky-smooth voice. He took a sip of his tea through his helmet, somehow, and instantly recoiled from it. "Ugh! Mattias, do you put _three _teaspoons of sugar in my tea?!"

"M-Milord, I-" Mattias was not able to get another word out, as, with a snap of his armoured fingers, Azar turned Mattias into a giant slug-like creature. He soon began to inflate like a balloon then exploded a second later, sending blood, viscera, and other bodily bits all over the kitchen. Everyone present let out annoyed grunts at how Mattias's body coated the room for the umpteenth time since their arrival, and idly watched as he reformed back into a human being. "Get it right this time, or I see you feed alive to the Tyranid."

Azar upturned his teacup, spilling all of the tea onto the floor and tossed the cup to Mattias, who was barely able to save it from crashing onto the floor. Driven by the fear of his cruel overlord, and that of the Tyranid, Mattias hurriedly set about make another cup of tea for the sorcerer.

"Where's everyone else? Are they still asleep?" Amadeo questioned all those present as he took his seat at the kitchen table, making sure to sit as far from Azar as possible. Trooper Verena, having finally caught up with him, went to the kitchen counter and prepared breakfast for herself and the Blood Angel. She was no Chapter Serf, but the food she had been able to produce was substantially better, and less likely to be poisoned, when compared to all others present in the house.

"The Tech Priest never slept," Roxanne said as she stood at the doorway to the living room. Bolter-Meltagun ready in hand to purge all the filth and traitors in the room. "He's probably in the garage molesting his hoard of 'artefacts' right now."

The one Roxanne spoke of was Magos Wieland of the Adeptus Mechanicus. As with most individuals of his rank, Wieland had replaced most of his flesh with cybernetic augmetics, and much preferred the company of machines than anything else. Amadeo had no idea what the Tech-Priest was up to, but would allowed him to pursue whatever he wished. So long as it was not heretical, of course.

* * *

Over in the house's massive garage, everything was as still as a tomb. Everything, except for a band for three Grots.

These Grots were a part of Riggut's crew of assistants, which the Ork would use to either help in the creation of bizarre weapons and contraptions, testers of said items, and even be incorporated into them at times. Another duty of theirs was to 'acquire' the necessary materials needed for Riggut's next project, or just when he felt like messing with people.

Right now, these three Grots were in the garage to do the latter. For the garage was a treasure trove of parts Riggut could use to make stuff with. The problem was, the others did not take kindly to the Ork pilfering parts from their vehicles to make something that, more often then not, ended up blowing up in his face. Not that such a trivia matter stopped Riggut, as he routinely kept sending his Grot assistants into the garage for parts, because screw what the others thought or did.

Seeing that the coast was clear, the three Grots snuck through the darkened garage as stealthily as they could. Their target was not one of the numerous vehicles, however, as they were after the mek-umie's stash of stuff.

This umie was similar to Riggut, for he liked machines and would mess with them a lot. Unlike Riggut, the mek-umie liked to talk to them for some reason, touch them, and do things to the machines that not even an Ork would ever think of. Another thing that set the Ork of umie apart was the latter's preference to keep a machine intact, while Riggut would smash it and make it into something else.

These differences really outlined why Orks were better than umies, as far as Riggut and his small cohort of Grots believed.

Dashing over to a crate of the mek-umie's newly gained stuff, the three grots quickly set about opening the crate and stuffing what they could into a sack. Wholly unaware of the danger that was looming over them.

"I see the xenos has sent his slaves to steal the Omnissiah's gifts," an emotionless, robotic voice belonging to a male umie suddenly said as the Grots had filled half of their sack.

Knowing they were caught, the Grots tried to get out of the garage as quickly as possible, whilst trying to take the sack with them. They did not get far though, as three mechanical tendrils shot out from the darkness and took hold of the Grots. Screaming in terror, the Grots flailed their arms, or tried punch at the tendrils, but there was no escape form their cold clutches. All three were brought before a tall, shadowy figure whose four glowing green eyes stared at them from beneath its hood.

"The price for defiling the Omnissiah's works is..." The shadowy figure pulled out a Volite Serpenta from their robes. "...death."

* * *

Back in the kitchen, the assembled housemates were joined by another of their number. One that they all wished to keep as far away from as possible.

"Did I hear someone say 'molesting'?" A voice spoke up from behind Amadeo. Quickly shooting to his feet and turning around, Amadeo saw another Chaos Space Marine in Power Armour. While Kraxus was fearsome, Azar was condescending, and Ostograth was disgusting, this other Traitor Astartes was just hard to look at because of how lurid it was.

His armour had been painted and customised to appear as offense to the eyes and senses as it was physically possible. A tall, wavy mohawk that seemed to randomly shift its colours adorned the top of his zebra-print helmet. His pauldrons and arm were painted a vivid blue, with left pauldron the bearing a golden motif depicting a moaning Daemonette's face. His shin guards were painted in a flashy leopard-print, and his boots had heels. An overwhelming musk that irritated Amadeo constantly emanated from the degenerate.

Claudius was his name, and Amadeo did not want this Slaaneshi follower behind him. _Ever._

"Stay away from me, profligate!" Amadeo growled at Claudius, a hand hovering over the grip of his Power Sword. Of all the Traitor Astartes, he was the most despicable. The Slaaneshi Marine made a sound that sounded like a mix of a condescending grunt and a aroused moan, and swaggered past him towards the fridge.

Things were pretty peaceful right now, but it would not remain that way.

"Where is Kraxxus? I saw him come down here after he... woke me up," Amadeo now asked as Verena placed a mug of recaff, or 'coffee' as the local people called the beverage, before him.

"No need to worry, my loyalist cousin," Ostograth responded as he placed a hand on Amadeo's left pauldron. The Plague Marine instantly losing his forearm as the Sanguinary Guard cut it off with his Power Sword. He did not mind though, and just let out a gurgled laugh despite how horrific the wound would be to a normal being. "Cousin Kraxxus is helping presently helping my Nurglings with the plants in backyard. He is quite alright, and is no danger anyone."

It was in that instant that the Khornate Berzerker could be heard screaming his lungs out from the backyard. Taking a moment to see just what was going on, the housemates saw Kraxxus fighting his way out of a shrub with his two chainaxes, while hundreds of flies and small Nurglings playfully swarmed over him. The Traitor Astartes locked eyes with all of the housemates, and let out a furious roar as he tried to escape the shrub, but was pulled to the ground by the Nurglings. There were just so many of them, that Kraxxus soon disappeared from view as the little Daemons piled on top of him.

Seeing that he was quite alright, those in the kitchen returned their focus to whoever else was not with them.

* * *

"Haven't seen the Eldar, but, I heard some odd noises coming from the Warlock's room. They're probably screwing each other, or some other unholy xenos crap." Verena was the one to speak this time around. While Amadeo appreciated the Storm Trooper for providing him information on where those most perfidious of xenos, he would have much preferred it if she had said something different at the end.

"Eugh, please do not put the image of xenos procreating in my head." Amadeo admonished the Armageddon Steel Legionnaire, causing her to lower her head in shame.

"Mmmm. I am interested in the image," Claudius remarked. Kraxxus, despite being under at least a hundred Nurglings, heard the Noise Marine, and threw one of the Nurglings at Claudius's faceplate. The Nurgling was not bothered at how Kraxxus had thrown it, instead, it took advantage of situation and began to 'play' with Claudius. Pulling clumps from Claudius's ridiculous mohawk, and covering him in its filth.

"Wutz 'pocree-atin'?" Riggut questioned as he poked his head into the kitchen, despite how half of his head had been blown off by the shot from Roxanne's Bolter-Meltagun. Ork physiology. There was nothing else like it in the galaxy, and it was a good thing that no other species were like the Greenskins.

* * *

Meanwhile, in one of the bedrooms upstairs, what was happening in there was not what the others were thinking.

"By Isha's flowing locks, I will break and ruin you Wych!" A lithe black robed figure yelled as Warp-lightning crackled from his hands. Alongside their robes, the individual wore black and bone-white chestplate, vambraces, shoulder guards, and a tall conical helmet adorned with deep red gems and slien runes.

"You will not be able to touch me. Not with those meagre tricks yours. When I kill you again, I will take your skin and use it as a canvas to paint your death!" Another lithe individual, female this time, wearing a highly revealing skintight bodysuit with plates of armour covering her left arm and leg. Her skin was so white, it was as if she had never been exposed to sunlight once in her life, and her long red hair was tied into a tall ponytail. A curved knife coated in excruciating neurotoxins in one hand, and a Splinter Pistol in the other.

This _delightful _pair were Ildrannar and Aesmea. A Warlock of Ulthwe and a Succubus of the Wych Cult of Strife, respectively. Of all the people who just had to share a room, it had to be them.

Ildrannar and Aesmea were not the only people in the room, for, idly watching the two, was another of the Eldar race.

Watching the Craftworlder and Commorite as they stood with their back bent 135 degrees backwards, was a female Eldar wearing a black and white bodysuit that hugged their body tightly without restraining their movements. A golden mask depicting an impassive Eldar face on one half, and the other completely blank, and topped with a violet plume.

This Eldar was a Player of the Harlequin Masque of the Frozen Stars. The name she said was her own was Melindris, though, given the even more enigmatic nature of Harlequins, it was possible she was lying. No matter, it was a name, and it was better than nothing.

"Ha! A blind, deaf, comatose, lobotomy patient has greater chances of killing me than you!" Ildrannar taunted as he cast lightning at Aesmea, though, she was quick enough to dodge out of the way. The lightning hitting nothing but the wall behind where Aesmea had been a second earlier.

"How dull your insults are, Craftworlder." Aesmea yawned at Ildrannar as she evaded his psychic attack, and fired a few shots at the Warlock with her pistol. He, like her, got out of the way of her attack and retaliated quickly and mercilessly. "Try harder, charlatan!"

Not one to take insults lightly, Ildrannar swiftly responded with one of his own as he concealed himself in a psychic darkness and picked up his Singing Spear.

"Tch, asinine degenerate!"

"Pathetic runt!" Aesmea maliciously hissed as she leapt into the darkness and clashed with Ildranner. The blade and tip of each other's weapon flashing each time they swung at each other, yet none could land a strike.

"Misshapen hag!"

"Blithering fool!"

"Contemptable reprobate!"

"Virgins!" A distorted voice suddenly interrupted Ildrannar and Aesmea's verbal and physical duel, the single word undoubtedly directed at the two of them. Looking to who had spoken it, the Warlock and Succubus saw it was Melindris, who was now balancing upside-down on only her index and middle fingers.

Of course, it just had to be the Harlequin.

"W-What?!" Ildrannar stuttered as he glared incredulously at the Harlequin, thankful that he was wearing his helmet right now. For beneath it his face was incredibly flustered at what Melindris had said.

"Harlequin... what did you just say?" Aesmea questioned the Harlequin with a twitching eye, and seemed to be seething with anger.

"Most splendiferous of kinsmen, would it be favourable for me to repeat myself again?" Melindris mischeviously asked the two other Eldar, before proceeding to gracefully get back onto her feet and quickly spun on her tiptoes. "You. Are. Virgins."

Both Craftworlder and Commorite stared at Melindris in silence, before facing each other then back at the Harlequin. A sort of... understanding had come between the two. An understanding that would involve Melindri's gruesome murder by their hands.

Most definitely not because the two actually were several centuries old virgins or anything. That would be just silly.

Advancing menacingly on the follower of Ceogorach, Ildranner and Aesmea made to strike the Harlequin and, in Aesmea's case, torture her into madness. Melindris made no effort to defend herself, preferring to instead hum an old Eldar song as she watched them raise their weapons. Such behaviour should have probably alerted both Ildrannar and Aesmea of this whole thing being a trap. It was too late, though, and the two of them had so easily fallen for it.

As they marched towards the Harlequin, the both of them tripped a near invisible wire that snapped as soon as they touched it, setting off the surprises that Melindris had secretly laid for them while they fought.

From the wall, a small cylindrical device shot a needle into Ildrannar's neck. As soon as the needle buried itself into him, the Warlock's entire body was instantly disembowelled as the needle burst into a flurry of monomolecular shards that shredded him apart from the inside out. Another device, this time on the ceiling and shaped as a flat disc, spat a greenish gas down at Aesmea, quickly enveloping her completely. In an instant, the gas began to rapidly eat away at the Succubus's flesh, and in mere seconds there was nothing left of her but bones.

"Ahahaha! It is just a prank, kinsmen!" Melindris laughed at the grisly prank she had pulled on Ildrannar and Aesmea. She intended to apologise once they returned, and perform another on them not long after.

* * *

Back in the living room, those present were going over their daily chores. It was honestly rather peaceful so far. Most of the time chore assignment devolved into either a short scuffle between two or three people, or an all-out brawl between everyone. Often these fights ended in fatalities, or even the complete destruction of the house they lived in, but such occurrences were trivial things.

They had now been joined by Shoh, the little Tau from the Farsight Enclaves who took this entire situation in good stride. Magos Wieland, who entered the kitchen with the dead bodies of three Grots who were missing their heads. Finally, there was Rahethes the Immaculate Doom, a Necron Lord of the Ptolmakh Dynasty.

The Magos wore the usual robes traditionally wore by the members of the Cult Mechanicus, though, as with all Tech-Priests, it was his cybernetics that marked them out. Beneath Wieland's hood, over half of the Tech-Priest's head was replaced with cybernetics, his mouth covered or replaced by a rebreather, his eyes were replaced with bionic replacements with four green eye-lenses. Wielands arms were also bionic, as were his legs. Sprouting from his back, were a single Servo-arm, and three tendril-like Mechandrites.

Rahethes was, as will all Necrons, a complete machine whose frame was a disturbing parody of the skeletal structure he once possessed. His necrodermis had been painted silver and gold, and bore the ornamentation typical of his rank. He even wore a cape made of several metal pieces reached down to the back of his shins.

Seeing all of those present in the house's kitchen would most certainly be one of the strangest things anyone would ever see in their lives. Unless, of course, one were to snort Warp Dust, then things would get a whole lot crazier.

"It's someone else's turn to feed Tyrant," Amadeo proclaimed as he pointed a finger to the front of the house. 'Tyrant', as the housemates had taken to calling the Tyranid amongst them, was a unique Hive Tyrant created by the Tyranid Hive Mind that possessed the ability to manifest whatever weapon and armour-forms at will. The house was too large for such a beast, so Tyrant remained outside, and acted like a guard dog.

A very hungry, gigantic, insectoid-dinosaur guard dog.

"Send the cultist. Menial tasks such as that are what he's good for anyway." Azar casually said from behind his newspaper, one of his extra arms pointing a finger at the aforementioned cultist.

"Hey! I-!" Mattias attempted to protest against his master's suggestion, a rather bold thing for him to do, but found a metal bucket filled with an assortment of raw meats thrust into his arms by Azar.

"Get to work, cultist!" The Thousand Sons Sorcerer commanded as he flipped to the next page of his newspaper.

"I have a name you know," Mattia grumbled as he left the kitchen and headed off to the front yard. Muttering a quick prayer to the Dark Gods to spare him from being feasted on by the Tyranid.

Tyrant would always try to eat whoever was in charge of feeding it, but had taken a particular liking to the taste of Mattias. So his chances of coming back without having been digested and pooped out of the Hive Tyrant were slim to none. If he were anyone else, specifically a loyal servant of the Emperor, Amadeo might have felt sorry for the man.

But he was a traitor who deserved far worse than that.

"Don't forget, you and I have a ritual to perform later today!" Claudius called after the cultist, who visibly shuddered in fear of what the Slaaneshi Marine intended to do to him. Noticing the wary looks being sent his way, Claudius was quick to respond. "What? There is the delightful band of Daemonettes I invited over, and I need a body to perform a blood ritual for them to come over. It will be fun for us _and _the locals, I assure you."

"You better fucking not," Kraxxus growled from within his helmet. Normally he was too gripped by bloodlust to form coherent words, but there were times when he could speak in a somewhat normal fashion. "If you do I will murder you for a solar month!"

Followers of Khorne and Slaanesh were never good allies, as they tended to murder each other on sight, but things were even worse between these two. For the last time Claudius had summoned Daemonettes into the house, they had torched the place to the ground, and broken one of the skulls Kraxxus hung from his belt. As a follower of Khorne, skulls were a huge thing to Kraxxus, and went on a one-man killing rampage at the skull's destruction, which was only ended after he had been blown to pieces eight times.

Claudius made that confusing combination of a grunt and moan at Kraxxus, and dismissively waved away the threat. That was enough to tick the Khornate Berzerker off, as he instantly leapt over the table and tried to pummel the Noise Marine to death with his armoured fists. While no doubt painful, there was something about the noises Claudius made that indicated to the others he was enjoying this.

While that was going on, the rest of them continued to go over the remaining chores that needed to be done.

"Okay then, now, someone has to take care of washing the clothes and hanging them outside." The Sanguinary Guard now declared as he pointed to the rather full clothes basket in the corner. The clothes were mainly coated in dirt, blood, and liquids that were best not spoken of.

"Washing clothes, ugh," Ostograth muttered under his breath. The Plague Marine was disgusted with the idea of clothes being washed, so he was not going to be in charge of that anytime in the future.

"I'll do it," Roxanne sighed as she walked over to the clothes basket, and began to put the first batch of clothes into the washing machine. She got quite the fright when a small Squig burst out of the clothes basket, and bit her hand off. In response, the Celestian used her other hand to take out her chainsword and eviscerated the creature. Getting the clothes even more bloody than before.

As that happened, the chaos cultist had finally gotten to the front yard, and started feeding Tyrant. How did they all know this?

They knew because of the desperate scream Mattias let out.

"Aaaaaaagh! Help m-!" Mattias' cry for help was then abruptly cut off before he could finish it. A loud belching sound came from the front yard a couple seconds after.

No one payed any attention to Mattias's distress, and carried on with chore assignment. There was quite a long list of chores to do, and the sooner these were done, the sooner they could all go back to hating each other.

"Hmph. Today, so it's Riggut's turn to throw out the rubbish." The house accumulated a good deal of rubbish in a rather short amount of time, so the bins had to be changed pretty frequently. Unlike the other chores, this one had a schedule of sorts to it, with the responsibility of changing the bins alternating between housemates ever day.

"I'z dun 'e awready," Riggut boomed as he popped open a can of fungus beer he had taken out from the fridge. Sceptical of the Ork claimed, Shoh pressed the issue.

"You did throw it in the correct waste disposal bin, right?"

"Nah! I jus' stuffed 'e inta da baseshmunt loike I'z a'ways do," the Mekboy replied before proceeding to drink all of the fungus beer in one gulp.

All went silent, well, apart from Kraxxus and Claudius who were still wrestling with each other, but that had become background noise to the rest of them. The reason why they had all gone silent was because the basement was where Rahethes had taken residence in. Not only that, but after finding a growing amount of bin bags and junk hidden in the basement, the Necron Lord had vowed he would 'flay the skin off of whoever was responsible, and reduce them to atoms.'

"You what?" Rahethes's haunting, metallic voice questioned the Ork who stood right next to him. "You are the reason why I find junk and full rubbish bins in my crypt?"

"Watcha gunna do, metul boy? 'Sides, it'z a baseshmunt, not a-a...uh," Riggut began to scratch his head as he tried to recall what Rahethes had called the basement. The Necron Lord did indeed live in the basement, but was obstinate in referring to it as a 'crypt.'

Without a word, Rahethes thrust a hand into Riggut's stomach, and tore all of his intestines for the Ork and everyone else to see. The Mekboy seemed to sway for a moment, but, he then pulled a Shoota from seemingly nowhere and shot the gun at Rahethes's 'face.' The shot went wide, and, instead of hitting living metal, it destroyed a pot containing a flower Ostograth had been carefully tending to.

Enraged by this, the Plague Marine took out his Plague Knife and lumbered over to Riggut. All of a sudden, Kraxxus lifted Claudius over his head, and threw the Noise Marine onto the table. Breaking the house's sixteenth kitchen table with a loud crash.

Deciding this was as good a time as any to vent his growing frustrations, Amadeo took up his Glaive Encarmine, and started to fight whoever was not a faithful member of the Imperium.

With that, another brawl broke out in the house.

* * *

Outside the house, a certain reincarnating headmaster stood a short distance from the front gate that lead to the house's front yard.

He had just watched a man get eaten alive by a creature even more monstrous in appearance than the Grimm, and could hear the start of an intense fight going on inside. Having learnt from experience that approaching the house while a fight between its residence was going on was a death sentence, he took several steps away from the house, and decided to wait out the scuffle going on inside. Hopefully it did not blow up this time around.

* * *

**There we go. The first chapter of the rewrite of 'Worst Enemies Make Even Worse Housemates.'**

**I hope you found it to be alright at least. No promises will be made as to the inclusion of future characters, or even how long this fanfiction will be.**

**I will see you all when I next see you.**


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